I started my day in Pittsburgh with a walk to the Fred Rogers Memorial statue. It was a 27 minute trek that took me through Point State Park and across the Fort Duquesne Bridge. The 36-acre park features the confluence of three rivers: the Allegheny, Monongahela, and Ohio. Within the park is the Fort Pitt Block House, a historic structure built in 1764 as a military defensive redoubt. It is older than the United States and in remarkable shape with sturdy timbers and masonry. Terrified of heights but determined to reach the statue, I swiftly crossed the Fort Duquesne Bridge. Remarkably, it’s one of Steel City’s 446 bridges. The Western Pennsylvania city has the most bridges in the World. I stopped long enough to quickly snap a photo of the busy waterway filled with boats and kayaks below.
It was a beautiful, hot summer day. I was overheated by the time I reached the massive, bronze memorial built in 2009 for Fred Rogers. I have a penchant for dressing poorly for the outdoors. I sat in a black shirt and pants with my back against the shaded concrete thinking about Mr. Roger’s legacy of neighborliness and caring. He was a gentle soul that helped children understand their needs so they could reach their fullest potential. In an increasingly tumultuous world, these are things we, as adults, should continue to practice.
Fred Rogers once said,
“There are three ways to ultimate success:
The first way is to be kind.
The second way is to be kind.
The third way is to be kind.”
In March, I re-entered the world of drumming after a lengthy hiatus. I’ve been hit with every obstacle imaginable. With the exception of playing weekly on a kit at a local music school, I’ve been using my practice pad, pillows in my hotel rooms and my imagination.
I recently spent hours disassembling my drum set to ship it from TN to TX. I cried A LOT. I reflected on where it’s been. Where I’ve been.
I keep ruminating on why I stopped playing. It was an amalgamation of traumatic events including homelessness and loss. It was poverty, mental illness and lack of confidence. It was a lot of things. What I DO know is that all the noise and pain in my mind goes away when I’m playing. This renewed sense of hope has been life saving. Hearing kind words like “you’ve got this” and “you are capable” from professionals in the field has continually lifted me up.
It’s bewildering to know how much equipment I have lost, including a hi-hat stand, three cymbals, and many other parts. I’m grateful to be in a better place and able to rebuild.
With these challenges in mind, I rounded out my day in the ‘Burgh with a trip to a local drum shop.
Hawthorne Drum Shop
is a local shop featuring vintage percussion equipment dating back to the 1920s.
I enjoyed exploring the space and it’s vast inventory. I imagined what sounds may have resonated from the pieces. I studied the careworn shells and hardware in awe of their resilience. I even spotted a marching bass complete with harness, and was overcome with nostalgic memories of my days on the drumline. Re-immursing myself in the music world has been intimidating. I was a bit anxious but the staff was welcoming and friendly. Local drum shops like Hawthorne present the unique and beautiful opportunity of preserving quality percussion instruments by keeping them in circulation.
If you’re ever in the Pittsburgh area, drop in and chat with the friendly staff and “Find Your Treasure.” Visit hawthornedrumshop.com to browse their collection, which is updated daily.
